SEPTEMBER 29, 2021 – Yesterday evening I joined two of my sibs and a brother-in-law for dinner at the cabin of Björnholm. It was a simple and splendid affair—the four of us, seated around the oak table, partaking in bowls of chickpea stew accompanied by Swedish flatbread and a recording of Alfred Brendel playing in the background. It was heaven.
Free-range conversation led Elsa and Jenny to reminisce about their experiences at Meadowmount, the summer “camp” in the Adirondacks to which Ivan Galamian, one of the greatest violin pedagogues of all time, invited his students and the students of his famous colleagues at Curtis and Juilliard. As master story-tellers, my sisters entertained Chuck and me well past the descent of darkness outside the cabin.
Upon a lull, I took my leave, since I had work to address. Equipped with a headlamp, I found my way along the shoreline path back to the Red Cabin.
Upon reaching my destination, I stepped onto the dock to view the heavens stretching over the lake. Some cosmic mimic had imitated the Hayden Planetarium—on a scale beyond the limits of scientific notation. What I saw most clearly was that the calm, mild evening was better suited for star-gazing than for office work. I texted Björnholm to suggest a star-viewing cruise aboard the Northern Comfort.
Jenny texted “yes” immediately, and Elsa was “in” too.
Fifteen minutes later we launched. Our vessel stayed earthbound, but when we looked skyward, our imaginations traveled light years from our planet. For the next hour, we marveled at the scene. Though none of us said so, each was grateful that together we could experience this grand, stellar theater. Through the trees ashore, we saw the cabin lights. Elsa and Jenny remarked with humor that the largest, brightest concentration of stars hovered over the family cabin. I thought about everyone associated with that dwelling, and how, like stars, our memories were illuminated above the place blessed by those people’s earthly presence.
As we star-gazed, my sisters put my rudimentary knowledge of astronomy to the test. I explained that except for the faint Andromeda Galaxy appearing in late November, all stars seen with the naked eye are within our own Milky Way (our solar system residing in “Orion’s Arm”); that the Milky Way, with 100 billion stars, is the largest galaxy within the “ Local Group,” which, in turn, is part of the “Virgo Supercluster” of galaxies. I could’ve kept going, but soon we’d have been lost in space.
When fog developed, I piloted the pontoon back to port, now with more memories to add to the many we’ve accumulated over the years. My sisters bade me farewell and climbed the earthen steps up the hill to the cabin. I remained aboard to make an entry in the ship’s log. “A magnificent nighttime cruise,” I wrote, “under starlit heavens.”
On my return to the Red Cabin, my headlamp failed—but not the stars. They lit my path just fine.
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
